


Riddle Me ThiS

by Linorien



Series: 007 Fest 2019 [22]
Category: James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Riddles, Sphinxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: Major Boothroyd is uncovering the best preserved statue of a sphinx. Once he uncovers it's mouth, he discovers a whole new secret.





	Riddle Me ThiS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castillon02](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02/gifts).



> Alternate title: Riddle Me Piss

Major Boothroyd was an odd sort of archeologist. He did not, contrary to pop cultural ideas, spend most of his days digging around in Africa. Nor did he exclusively wear khakis. He actually disliked travelling very much. He had grad students to do that for him. 

The major actually liked the pristine clean rooms in the back of museums. It was there that he could don a lab coat and a protective mask and slowly while away the hours carefully cleaning artifacts. He enjoyed listening to audiobooks while he worked. Three weeks ago, two of his best grad student had brought back a remarkable find: an utterly complete sphinx statue. 

It was much smaller than the Great Sphinx of Egypt of course. That would never fit in his lab. And it was from Turkey, not Egypt. But it seemed like it might be the most complete statue ever unearthed. No broken noses or damaged paws. So he was taking his time. 

He started from the top, carefully brushing the extra sand away from the hair without damaging the texture of the statue. It had been carved to have a cloth headpiece, but some strands of thick Egyptian hair poking out of the front. It fell over his face much like his used to when he was younger. (His goth phase didn’t last very long after he singed his hair.)

Second week in he was working on the back of the lion part. It was smoother and a good break from the extra detailed head. Not that he was being rough with the statue, but not every part required the same amount of care and eyestrain. 

Third week he turned back to the face. That was always his least favourite part. The statues always seemed to be judging him while he carefully brushed away the buildup. Late at night it felt like the eyes followed him around the room. 

This statue was especially disconcerting when he brushed enough debris away to discover the paint was still there. The sphinx had piercing green eyes and more than ever he felt like he was being watched by a terrible old spirit. 

He would’ve put a scarf over the eyes if he didn’t feel like that would be more likely to anger the spirit. Not that he really believed in spirits occupying statues, but, you know, superstitions. And it couldn’t hurt to be careful. Instead he leaned closer to brush away the build up on the nose and did his best to ignore the feeling of being watched. 

Today, he was working on the mouth. The lips were slightly chapped and had faded brown lip colouring. Boothroyd carefully brushed them off. He was straightening up and cracking his back, when he heard a loud gasp. 

He spun, wondering who had ventured down to his lab at the end of the hall. There was no one at the door. Setting down his brush, he stepped out into the hall, checking both ways. “Hello?”

“Greetings, mortal.” 

The voice was coming from behind him. 

Major Boothroyd turned around, but only the thing in the room was the, oh no.

“Could you tell me where I am?”

The lips moved. Very slightly but they did. No way. He had to be dreaming. It wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt something this weird. What the hell. It was only a dream. 

“You’re in the basement of the University of Cork,” he answered. “I thought you were meant to be the one asking the questions though.”

The sphinx’s lips set into a frown. “Well riddle me this: how the hell am I meant to know when my eyes have been covered for the last odd centuries?”

Boothroyd shrugged and pulled up a stool, sitting down and crossing one leg over the other. “I didn’t expect you to speak so how am I to know your limits?”

“That is wise. You’ve won this round. Now if you don’t mind continuing on with your work, we can exchange more riddles while you free me.”

“Alright. As I won, I’ll go first,” Boothroyd boldly said before realising he would have to think of a riddle. “It walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three legs in the evening. What is it?”

The sphinx scoffed. “You think that one is hard? I created it. The answer is man. My turn. What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?”

Boothroyd knew he had heard this one before. It was something nature-y. What was it? Oh! “A river.” He resumed brushing off the statue. “Until I am measured I am not known, yet how you miss me when I have flown. What am I?”

The sphinx pondered that while he cleaned of the paws of the creature. It seemed strange to continue working on the face while it spoke to him. Too much like the dentist trying to hold a conversation while scrapping away at your teeth. 

“Time,” it said finally. “Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.”

That sounded familiar. Why did it sound familiar? He paused in his work, frowning into the middle distance. “What’s your name? Not a riddle, just wondering while I think.”

“My true name is too complex to be spoken by mortal lips. You may call me Q.”

“Q. I can do that. You can call be Boothroyd. It’s my surname, but that’s what I get called most.”

“Do you have the answer yet, Boothroyd?” The darn thing was smirking. 

Why would it be smirking? Like it knew he should know the answer. It’s not like he regularly had riddle competitions. He really only liked riddles because of...oh. Because of  _ The Hobbit _ , which he had been listening ot the audiobook of while cleaning the sphinx. The bloody beast had heard the riddle section. “Teeth,” he said, not showing his own. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

“Ever since the vibrations of the plane shook enough of the sand loose.” Q was smiling outright now. “Do you have another riddle, or do you forfeit?”

Did he have another? He needed one to stump it. To win. Even if this was just a dream, he was competitive. He thought for a moment by taking a gamble. “It’s true I bring serenity, and hang around the stars, but yet I live in misery. You’ll find me behind bars, with thieves and villains I consort. In prison I’ll be found, but I would never go to court, unless there’s more than one. What am I?”

Q thought for a minute. Then another minute. He made guesses, but each were wrong. “Alright. I admit defeat. What is the answer to the riddle?”

Boothroyd smiled and laid down his tools. His back was protesting and signalling the end of the work day. “I think if you keep eavesdropping and learning a little more of English, you’ll figure it out yourself. I’d hate to deprive you of the pleasure.”

Q growled a little in frustration. “Okay, fine. But before you go, remember this has not been a dream.”

  
  
  



End file.
